And what of celebrations?
It happened again. I aged. I stepped into my mid-20s. But this year, it was quite different. While I have been putting up the big, mature girl trope for quite some time, to the extent that I pretend to be nonchalant about birthdays, I furtively longed for a celebration. Every year, celebration meant different things to me. As I grew up, the definition of celebration refined and refined. Now, it has carved itself into something “normal” and “basic” I craved for. I wished for people I loved and kept so dearly to remember and wish me good things on this day (Yes, I admit my reluctance to call it the b day yet from all the nonchalance show I put up or the lack of show completely, on social media). And of course, I wanted to move my seat from my little office desk at home and do something else that doesn't involve me being a couch potato. That was all that defined my idea of celebration. About my the day- I did celebrate the day as I hoped to. But there were catches, indeed. Some ...
